Visions of Christmastide: A Regency Christmas romance (Headstrong Heroines Standalone books) by Sandra Sookoo

Author:Sandra Sookoo [Sookoo, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New Independence Books
Published: 2021-10-25T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

December 21, 1817

Felicity hummed snatches of a carol traditionally sung during the Christmastide season as she went about her task of answering Mrs. Grayson’s correspondence. She performed her work by rote, for her mind was firmly filled with the memories of that kiss—as well as more than a kiss—with Bartholomew yesterday afternoon.

Good heavens it had been the most glorious thing to ever happen to her. No wonder ladies were advised against finding themselves alone with a man if such pleasures were what awaited. Heat filled her cheeks and slipped languidly through her veins as she recalled each time he’d claimed her lips, remembered every pass of his hands on her person. How was it possible he’d pulled such feelings from her until she’d acted this side of being a wanton and reclined upon her father’s desk?

And what was more, she’d heartily regretted that a tradesman had come to call at the office for she’d wanted the opportunity to explore the captain’s body as much as she would dare. The entirely too naughty thoughts sent tingles of need dancing down her spine and her nipples to tighten slightly.

Oh, dear.

It seemed now that she’d been awakened to carnal knowledge and shown what else life could hold, there was no turning back. Did that mean she’d been compromised, ruined? Was she soiled goods, a wanton, then? If so, she truly didn’t care. Those precious few moments had been the best she’d spent in the whole of her adult life, and she certainly wouldn’t demand Bartholomew leg-shackle himself to her. He had his life; she had hers.

But she would remember those fleeting moments well into her lonely dotage, and the man who’d been kind enough to make her experience them.

“What the devil are you thinking about over there, girl?” The sound of Mrs. Grayson’s querulous voice yanked her from her musings. “You’ve been staring off into space so long, I wouldn’t doubt you’ve gotten ink blots on your stationery.”

Felicity glanced down at the letter of acceptance she’d been penning. Sure enough, a few ink drops now marred the line of writing she’d finished. “Drat.” Quickly, she returned the pen to its holder and then shoved the paper to the other side of the small secretary. That would need to be fixed later. “My apologies, Mrs. Grayson. I’m merely woolgathering. Don’t mind me.”

“Then come over here and tell me what’s got you building castles in the air. I’m bored and I want you to entertain me.”

Without anything to use as a valid excuse, Felicity rose, shook out her brown skirts, and then approached the widow’s sofa. I cannot very well tell you I entertained a compromising position with your son, can I? The hilarity of that caused her lips to curve into a grin that she promptly tamped lest the woman feel she’d done it in jest. “I suppose I’m thinking about the upcoming Christmastide season. My father adored it so and I want to carry on in that same tradition.” At least it was a truth, but not the one the widow probably wanted.

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